Together We're Invincible
by futureREFLECTIONS
Summary: They came from different worlds. They had different friends. Their lives couldn't have been less similar. But after Clark meets Millie and talks to her for the first time, they both realize that their differences matter less than they should. Clark/OC
1. Surprise

**AN:** I don't know how long this series will last. It's not really a main priority, but it'll still be a fun experience to write something different from what I've done before.

**Warnings:** There is a chance of possible OOC.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Smallville, Clark Kent, Martha Kent, kryptonite, or anything else mention besides any original characters and the plot.

**Mood-Setting-Songs:** Car Underwater- Armor For Sleep; The First Day Of My Life - Bright eyes

Part One

Clark sat in the waiting room, trying to be patient until he could finally go see his friend again. Chloe, Clark's long time friend, had been shot in the right shoulder whilst trying to protect Clark's secret. So there Clark sat, by himself in the waiting room of Smallville Medical Center, feeling completely helpless.

Martha Kent, Clark's mother, had left with the excuse that she couldn't sit still. "I'm just going to go for a walk. You can come with if you'd like," she offered but Clark refused, saying that he could use the time to sit and think. You see, Clark has been trying to figure out his relationship with Lana Lang for months and months now, but he just couldn't seem to make any sense of it.

"Just don't touch me, I can walk on my own," a harsh voice brought him out of his stupor. He looked to the source of the voice to see a girl with two nurses on either side of her. She had a very determined look to her, her arms down at her sides with long, delicate fingers clenched tightly into fists. Her breathing was labored as she lifted one leg and stepped forward. As soon as she put her weight on it again, she collapsed and the nurses caught her before she hit the ground.

She swore loudly a few times and squeezed her eyes shut, taking deep breaths. Clark could hear the nurses trying to calm her and convince the girl to start making her way back to her room.

The girl had white blond hair that had big chunks dyed black and purple; it was pulled back into a messy ponytail and still hung almost to her elbow. She was short and thin, almost feeble looking, but she had an air of confidence and independence about her. Clark was shocked to find out that he knew her (or at least knew of her), but he found that he was staring at her only after she made eye contact and glared daggers at him. He smiled but she sighed, her brow crinkling in either disappointment or anger as her eyes moved to the floor ahead of her as the nurses led her out of sight.

"I'm sorry about her," a girl's voice said from next to Clark, startling him slightly. He turned to see a woman that looked just like an older version of the girl he'd just seen, except her hair was light brown.

"She's my younger sister. They expect too little of her, she says, so she gets frustrated when they doubt her." the woman explained, and Clark nodded in understanding.

"What's your name?" Clark asked, and the woman laughed, brushing a piece of honey brown hair from her eyes before holding out her hand for me.

"Valerie Aubert. My sister is Millie," she stated, and Clark shook her hand, introducing himself as well.

"Clark Kent. Millie goes to Smallville High, right?"

"Who do you know that's here, Clark?" she nodded, then asked kindly, and Clark smiled sadly.

"My friend Chloe. She was in Suicide Slums yesterday for work and she got mugged and the attacker shot her. In the shoulder."

"That's terrible! Oh my god, is she okay?"

"She was awake earlier, but it was only for a minute. Doctors say she's going to be okay, but that she really just needs her rest."

"That's good. I think it's obvious that I'm here for Millie. She was in a car accident last year, hit head on by a drunk driver. She was wearing her seatbelt, and still she was thrown through the sunroof a hundred feet. I guess she was lucky that she avoided being landed on, if lucky is the right word for it. She was in a coma for eighty one days, and it's been hell since then, but she's getting much better," Valerie explained, and Clark listened in silent shock. He remembered hearing about the accident on the news and around school. He even signed a big 'get-well-soon' card from the entire junior class for Millie, but he never really talked to her. Clark had no idea that what had happened was so terribly horrific.

"Well, it's safe to say I'm very glad that she's improving," Clark stated, and Valerie nodded grimly.

"Her personality definitely hasn't changed a bit, except for the fact that she's much more irritable than she used to be. The doctors say if things continue the way they are, she'll regain full mobility in her legs and someday she can drive again and carry on with a somewhat normal life."

"Yeah, Chloe gets into a lot of trouble. She's a journalist, so she's got to be nosy for the job. It costs her a lot sometimes, but she still does it because she loves it," Clark felt better being able to talk to someone so freely. It was a strange sensation, especially because he'd never met this girl before, and already they were sharing their hurt.

"I'd like to meet your friend some day," Valerie decided, and Clark grinned.

"Likewise, I'd love to get a chance to talk to Millie. She sounds like a wonderful person."

Valerie nodded, shifting her gaze to the floor.

A nurse came out smiling and looked toward Valerie.

"Ms. Aubert? Millie would like to see you."

"Well Clark, I suppose I'll be seeing you around," she smiled at Clark, before standing and following the nurse until he could see them no longer.

Millie's POV

"Why the hell were you talking to Clark Kent?" I demanded as soon as Val walked through the door. My nurse, Hailey, gave me stern look before injecting some sort of medication into my I.V. and leaving the room.

"He's a sweet kid, Mil. Have you ever even spoken to him?" she asked, and I growled.

"I've spoken a total of fifteen words to the guy! He's a country bumpkin, Valerie. And why is he here in the first place? Does he just creep around hospital's watching the disabled and pretending to feel bad?"

"His friend was shot in Suicide Slums yesterday," Val said in one of her know-it-all tones. I instantly felt like a jackass, and it must have shown, because Val grinned and rested her hand on top of mine.

"Aww, does Millie-Willie feel bad about what she said?""I had no idea," I said defensively, and she chuckled.

"Did you call me in here just to nag me about young mister Kent? Or was there something else?"

I sighed, my legs swinging back and forth over the edge of the bed.

"I want to go home, Valerie. I'm tired of this hospital and all the way-too-cheery nurses I get stuck with. Because really, there's nothing to be cheerful about."

"Emilie, I know you want to come home, but you're only two weeks into your physical therapy."

"I can come back every day for it. I just want to sleep in my own bed, in my own room, in our house." I was starting to tear up, and Valerie noticed like always, because she wrapped her arms around me. I didn't return her hug, because it reeked of sympathy, and I was not having that.

When she pulled back, I stared at her and she looked at me with a mixture of pity and hurt in her eyes.

"Just go," I said, and she moved back slowly. I looked away from her, making it obvious I was done with her, and she left quickly, sniffling slightly. I heard that deep, average voice ask her what was wrong from down the hall, and seconds later he was visible through the window, then in the doorway, standing there in his jeans and blue t-shirt that he always seemed to be wearing.

"What? Come to tell me how sorry you are for what happened?" I snapped, but he didn't look phased at all. I couldn't believe his nerve. Clark Kent, for those of you who don't know, is a total farm boy. He works on his father's farm milking cows and fixing stuff, and then he comes to school and hangs out with that girl that runs the Torch. Oh, and the worst of it is, he can always be found drooling over Lana Lang, his sometimes girlfriend. It was sick. Lana was perfect; long sleek hair, emotional green eyes, perfect body. There was one thing that was obvious; Lana Lang had a life full of tragedy. Her parents were killed in the meteor shower, and then her boyfriend was killed fighting over-seas. I never had anything against Lana, though. It was just the way all of the guys threw themselves helplessly at her feet, Clark Kent included.

"No. I came to see if you were alright because your sister looked upset. Everything okay?' he asked, taking a seat in the chair next to my bed.

"Far from it, actually. Thank you for asking," I clenched my jaw, and he nodded, pursing his thick pink lips. There was no denying that Clark Kent was attractive. He had the whole sculpted-cheeks-and-square-jaw model face, sun-kissed skin and dark hair, not to mention his surprisingly muscular build. Though I guess that's the reward for working on a farm all day.

"I realize that we don't really know each other at all, but sometimes that makes it easier to talk. And I've got time to listen," he told me gently, and I sighed, looking at his face for a long moment.

"Have you ever been in a serious accident, Clark?" I asked him, and he shook his head, before I continued.

"It's the most terrifying, horrible thing that a person can go through. I remember seeing the headlights flash into my lane too late, and I remember my chest being crushed by the seatbelt, and I could feel the car tip forward and start to flip. I can still hear the metallic screaming of metal being crushed and the loud pop of glass shattering while I was airborne for what seemed like forever. And when I hit the ground, I could feel my leg break and my head crunched against the gravel on the side of the road and the sound my body made when it smacked into the pavement reminded me of dropping a pillowcase full of books from a second-story window. It all happened very quickly, but it felt like it dragged on and lasted forever," my voice was trembling by the time I made it half-way through the story, and Clark's eyebrows were pulled together in a hard line, his jaw tight.

"It's a hard thing to recover from. I still can't walk on my leg, but I'm getting better. So in that sense, I guess I am okay. But emotionally? Not for years and years to come, I think," I sighed, looking down at my hands.

"Well, let's get off this depressing subject, then. What's your favorite movie?" Clark asked me, and I was silently relieved for the subject change. I thought for a long time, before deciding that I couldn't pick just one. Movies were one of my passions. I didn't watch them, I studied them. I also used to make them, but I haven't really been….able for a while.

"It's a tie between Pulp Fiction and East of Eden," I told him, and he looked surprised.

"East of Eden? My dad used to watch that when I was little," Clark stated, and I laughed once.

"It's a brilliant movie. James Dean is mostly known for 'Rebel Without A Cause' but in my opinion,

'East of Eden is his best film. Though he only made three," I added, and Clark again looked surprised.

"You know movies, don't you?" he narrowed his eyes slightly, and I smiled.

"I'm in love with everything that they portray and the way that they bring such strong emotions out of people. It's incredible," I shook my head slowly, awed just thinking about the profound impact films have had on me alone.

"I've only seen Pulp Fiction once. I remember there being a lot of blood," he half-smiled, and it made me laugh.

"That's because Quentin Tarintino likes blood a lot. As far as modern horror movie directors, he's at the top of the list when it comes to quality films. He's sitting up there with Robert Rodriguez and Eli Roth. Although Eli Roth is just an all around sick person sometimes," I cringed, thinking about Hostel and how it made me squirm.

"Wow," Clark said, and looked as if he were trying to find the right thing to say. I waited patiently as he stared at my hand, before he looked up and met my eyes.

"Okay, what about music?" he asked, and I grinned. If there was one thing that I loved to experience more than movie, it was music. And I know that everyone says music is their life, but that's because it's hard not to love music.

He studied my expression for a moment before laughing.

"I've released the floodgates, haven't I?"

I smiled at him, before asking, "I need a more specific question. You can't just say 'Tell me about music.' We'll be here for days," I laughed, and he nodded slowly.

"Top five favorite bands or artists," he decided, and I was quick to answer.

"Bright Eyes, Brand New, The Devil Wears Prada, DespairsRay, and Frank Sinatra. Although I don't know anyone who doesn't love Frank Sinatra.

"Out of all of those that you listed, he's the only one I've heard of," Clark admitted, and I wasn't really surprised. Bright Eyes was popular, sure, but they were still pretty indie. Brand New was kind of the same. I couldn't picture Clark the Farmer listening to The Devil Wears Prada, and DespairsRay is a Japanese metal band. Of course he'd only heard of Sinatra.

"It's understandable. You live on a farm. The only music you probably hear is on the radio," I smirked, and he frowned slightly.

"Now that's not necessarily true…okay, so it kind of is. I guess it's a good thing I'm talking to you then," he smiled wide, and my breath caught audibly in my throat. I had no idea how much that smile would change the way his face looked. Before he was handsome, but now, when he smiled, he was breathtaking, literally.

I was also the type of person to pay too much attention to facial details while I talked to someone, and I couldn't find one flaw on Clark Kent's face. His eyebrows were amazing, I've already mentioned his strong jaw and cheekbones, and his nose was long and straight. He had somewhat wide eyes, but they melded wonderfully with his face, and his lips were thick and kissable. It was the only way I could think to describe them.

I recovered quickly, though.

"You're right. It's a good thing you've got a music and movie obsessed new friend, because your music-and-film horizon is sorely in need of broadening," I grinned back, and he laughed quietly.

I was surprised to find that I got along wonderfully with Clark. He didn't act like a farm boy at all, compared to some of the guys I've talked to in this town. I used to live in Metropolis with my older brother, but he got a new job that required him to move a lot, so I came to live with Val here in Smallville. That was a few years ago, three I think, and I've grown somewhat attached to the small town, though I didn't blend in very well.

Another reason I was surprised by this is because we came from completely different worlds. He lived on a farm and I live in a little house close to downtown. He was raised by salt of the earth people and my parents abandoned me when I was eleven. They dropped me off at Val's so that she could baby-sit me while they went to dinner, and they never came back. The point was, Clark and I were opposites. If we stood next to each other, you'd probably think something like "Why is that nice boy there with that…interesting girl?". I looked like I had a rough childhood, and Clark looked nurtured and well-raised.

We talked for about another hour and a half, before he glanced at his watch and his eyes widened.

"It's already almost nine o'clock! I'm sorry Millie, I've got to go. Do you mind if I come visit you tomorrow?" he asked kindly, and I smiled.

"I'll be waiting," I laughed, and he smiled again. It made my stomach jerk and twist, but I hid it well.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," he stood up and put the chair back where it belonged, before waving to me as he left the room.

As if it wasn't weird enough that I'd actually spoke to Clark Kent for a good two hours, I also felt like if we continued to talk this much, I would be hopelessly infatuated with him before long.

I was an honest person, so it wasn't hard to admit to myself that I already liked Clark. If the time ever came that my feelings progressed to something more, I was quite sure that I could tell him and hope that he felt the same.

But there I go, getting ahead of myself.

Because how can anything more than friendship last when half of the relationship was laying in a hospital bed, unable to walk?

There would be no dates, no late night walks, no dances. Nothing.

So to answer my own question, it can't.

And it won't.


	2. Nerves

**AN:** Busy weekend ahead. School has started up again. Lots of homework. But I'm trying. This one is long, too. There are pictures of Millie and Brian on my profile. It's under the "Images to Correspond with Together We're Invincible" area. Hard to miss. Right above the area where all the writing is listed.

**Warnings:** There is a chance of possible OOC.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Smallville, Clark Kent, Martha Kent, kryptonite, or anything else mention besides any original characters and the plot.

**Mood-Setting-Songs:** Season Poem-Gregory and the Hawk

Of course, Clark Kent did not disappoint. As the days passed, Clark kept coming back. It's been almost two months since the first visit, and it was impossible not to notice that the two of them had grown closer. He would stay by her side for hours, and when he would leave, he would lean down and kiss her forehead, before telling her he'd see her tomorrow.

And Millie was ecstatic. With Clark around, she was a lot less stressed and lonely. She had someone other than her uptight nurse to talk to, and it helped a lot. Though Clark was a little bit touchy when she wanted to talk about her accident, Millie didn't mind because she didn't really like talking about it anyway. But there were some days, after her two hours of rehabilitation, when she would get frustrated with the slow process and get angry and take her anger out on Clark's poor ears.

Today was going to be one of those days, Millie could feel it in the way her leg ached when she put pressure on it. She could stand on it now, and put pressure on it, but she was still having a hard time walking.

She couldn't wait to be through with these exercises, because Clark always came in a few minutes after she was situated back in her bed.

The nurse, Hailey, walked her to the room where they would be working, doing flexibility exercises to maintain full movement in Millie's leg, rebuilding strength by doing slow, painful squats and lunges.

Hailey had only encouraging words for Millie, but they didn't help much. Millie would gasp and grit her teeth when the muscles in her leg protested against the pressure Hailey was putting on it. Hailey told her it was normal, but it provided no solace for Millie. Hailey started to stretch her leg sideway to test the range of motion, telling Millie to say stop when it started to hurt. It was fine for a bit, until there was a searing pain that spread from her thigh to her knee and sent tremors through her back. She screamed a short, broken and strangled cry, before clenching her jaw and squeezing her eyes shut.

Hailey eased her leg back to it's starting position and carefully leg it hang by itself.

"What the hell was that?!" Millie snapped, furiously wiping at the tears that now streamed steadily from her eyes.

"Millie, I had to test your range. If I wouldn't have, you might've gotten hurt later in the rehabilitation," Hailey defended herself, putting a reassuring hand on Millie's shoulder at the same time.

"Please, just don't right now…" Millie hissed, trying desperately to calm herself down before she started throwing punches at the nurse.

She took deep, shaky breaths, and had her eyes closed. All she really wanted was to go back to her bed, but she knew that once her trainer got in here, he wouldn't have any of that.

Millie's trainer, Brian, was the one person that Millie could really connect to, when it came down to similarities. He was nice, but he was strict. He left no room for complaining or giving up, and Millie guessed that it was the reason she was making such steady progress. Brian had long, unkempt black hair that usually had a dark blue bandana wrapped around it, holding it to his head. It reminded Millie vaguely of Axl Rose, though she'd never say anything to Brian about it. He was short, only a little taller than Millie, but very fit. He also had his septum pierced as well as a Monroe, which was unheard of in Smallville, for the most part. Especially for someone in the medical profession.

But Millie figured that when you're the best at what you do, you can look how you want and keep your job. Brian had also told her about the band he was in part time, and she'd raised her eyebrows at that. It wasn't very surprising, but it was still a little weird.

She liked Brian, though. They'd become close friends since she was hospitalized; he visited her almost as much as Clark did.

Millie sighed, burying her face in her hands. She had to compose herself before Brian got here, or she would be morbidly embarrassed.

"Heyy, Mills, what's the matter?" a familiar voice asked, Millie heaved a sigh, before looking up at Brian.

"Nothing," Millie muttered, and Brian gave her a blank look, showing that he clearly didn't believe her.

"Really, it's nothing. Let's go," she slid down for the bench she was at. Brian held out his hand for her and guided her over to the slow-moved track where she would practice her walking. She took hold of the bars and made her way to the center while Brian turned the machine on low, and stood in the space between the two bars at the end of the track.

Millie started walking, her jaw clenched so tight she could feel a headache coming on. She moved faster and Brian sighed, "easy, Millie. Don't rush yourself."

"Aren't you the one that tells me to push myself?" she asked bitterly, trying with all her might to ignore the pain in her knee, protesting the movements she was making.

"Not like this. You're going to hurt yourself," he raised his voice very slightly, but it was extremely noticeable.

Millie was distracted for a moment; it was long enough for her to lose her footing and tumble toward the ground. Brian slammed his finger down on the off button and hopped over the bar instead of going around, hurrying to help Millie up.

"Told ya," he said humorlessly, and Millie choked back a sob. She'd landed on her leg wrong, and it was throbbing and her nerves were screaming.

Brian lifted her off the ground and carried her to the bench where she was sitting before, setting her down carefully.

"Tell me what's wrong, or we're doing squats," Brian said, his voice gentle but his expression hard.

"I already told you, it's nothing. Hailey pushed my range too far, and my leg was sore. I figured that moving it would help. You know, walk it off," Millie explained lamely, and Brian sighed.

"Okay, well now your leg is really sore, so we're not going to be able to do anything properly. We'll go get some ice cream down the street and take the rest of the day off," he smiled, and Millie relaxed a little bit.

"Fine," she agreed, and he brought her a pair of crutches to use, "but I want to change my clothes first."

"As you wish," he pulled the door open while Millie got herself up using the crutches. She was fast with the crutches because she didn't have to put any weight on her bad leg. Brian didn't have to slow his pace at all so that Millie could keep up with him, which made her happy because she didn't like people waiting for her. When they got back to the room, Millie had no problem changing. She had gotten used to the lame leg and learned to work with it instead of struggle against it.

After she was dressed, wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and a white V neck t-shirt that said "Stay Positive" in big, bold black letters (Brian had gotten it for her on her last birthday. He thought it was funny.) and her favorite pair of black and gold high top Nike Dunks were secured on her feet, she met Brian outside her room.

"Nice shirt," he grinned, before the headed for the front doors. It took them across the path of the waiting room, and a different, but still very familiar voice called out Millie's name. She turned and looked in the direction of the voice, a smile already on her face when she met Clark's eyes.

"Hi Clark! You're here early today," Millie said, delighted to see that handsome face smile when he stopped in front of her.

"I can't stay too late today; my mom needs help around the house. So I figured I'd come a little early incase you finished your session early…and it looks like you have," he glanced at Brian, who Millie could feel standing close behind her.

"OH! I almost forgot. Clark, this is my trainer, Brian. Brian, this is my friend Clark," she introduced them, and Clark held out his hand with a smile on his face. Millie turned to look at Brian, who'd hesitated slightly before forcing a smile and shaking Clark's hand.

"We were just about to go get ice cream. Want to come?" Millie asked, enjoying the idea of spending time outside of the hospital with Clark.

"Sure," he smiled, and Millie felt warm inside for the first time in a while. She loved having Clark around. He was rarely ever sad or at least he never showed it, and after being the a building full of sadness and pain for months, it was a relief. Clark was Millie's own personal sun.

Millie's POV

Brian and Clark talked on the way to the ice cream parlor; I think Brian was surprised by how well Clark could get along with pretty much anyone. I wasn't really paying attention to their conversation, though. I was enjoying the fresh air that I rarely got anymore. It was very bright out; I wished that I would have grabbed my sunglasses, but I didn't mind too much.

It didn't take us very long to get to the ice cream shop.

"What are you guys going to get?" I asked them, interrupting their discussion. They both looked at me; Clark smiled softly and Brian shrugged, watching as Clark opened the door for us. I thanked him, going in first like they expected, and crutched my way to the counter. I assumed that Brian was paying for me, because I didn't have any money. I waited for them to catch up, which really didn't take long because Brian walks fast and Clark's legs are like as tall as me.

Brian ordered for the three of us while Clark stood silently next to me, that same little smile on his lips as his arm rested affectionately over my shoulders. Brian glanced at us and turned away, hiding what I assumed was a grimace, but I soon forgot about that when I heard the whispers from behind us.

"Yeah, that's the Vaughter girl. The one that was in the accident last year. I'm surprised she's out and about. I never see her around. She certainly hasn't changed much, though," the elderly woman chuckled just as I turned to glare at her and her company. It was extremely rude, even in my standard, that they were sitting there discussing me as if I wasn't standing right next to them.

Clark squeezed my shoulder gently; I looked up at him and his smile widened before he met my eyes. I knew what he was trying to tell me. That I was being ridiculous and that I shouldn't take it personally. It was a big deal what happened, and I can understand that people are curious, but that doesn't change the fact that they were rude about it. The two women could have waited to whisper their gossip until I was out of earshot.

Brian handed Clark his cone and carried mine and his, and we took a seat in the corner booth. I sat on the same side as Brian, and his wounded expression gave a little; he smiled at me and handed my cone. I sensed that these two were secretly having some male battle over my attention because as soon as Clark said something and my eyes shifted away from Brian to Clark's face, Brian sighed and took a huge bite of his ice cream. I glanced at him and cringed; I never understood how anyone could bite ice cream. It hurt my teeth just thinking about it.

I gave my attention to Clark, though, despite Brian's reaction. I refused to be stuck in the middle of some testosterone-fueled battle. Besides, Brian wasn't even talking.

"Millie, you know those nice old ladies didn't mean to offend you," Clark said, his voice showing a smile that didn't appear on his face.

"Yeah, I know. But they could have waited until I was out of earshot, at least," I defended myself, and the smile he was fighting won and broke out across his face. It was wonderful to see, and if I hadn't distracted myself with my Rocky Road, I might have lunged across the table with my good legs and did something embarrassing to Clark.

I chewed on a pecan that I got, and looked over at Brian again. His ice cream was almost gone, while mine was barely even touched. I looked at Clark's and saw that he too was going to town on his cone.

"Well shit, I'm a slow eater, aren't I?" I ventured, and they both laughed, before Brian nodded and popped the rest of his cone into his mouth proudly.

I sighed and tried to eat faster, but it was no use. I wanted to enjoy this outing as much as I could because they were few and far apart. I looked at Clark, who had also finished his cone, and he smiled at me. I laughed quietly seeing a bit of chocolate on the corner of his lips, and I wished that I could lean forward and lick it off, but instead I pointed to the spot on my own mouth, and his smile disappeared for a moment while he wiped it off, before grinning again.

"You're good," I told him and he shrugged before nodding, just as a quiet beeping came from next to me.

Brian was already looking at his pager when I turned to him.

"We have to get you back to the hospital," he said quietly, looking at me.

I glanced down at my cone and frown. I wasn't even going to be able to finish.

After waiting for my response and studying my sad expression, he sighed and turned to look at Clark.

"Clark, you're a good kid. Can you get her back to the hospital safe and sound when she's done eating?" Brian asked, and Clark thought for a few second before nodding, "Yeah, sure. I can do that."

"I'm really not supposed to be doing this, so I'll cover for you until you get back in your room, but try to make it soon. I don't want to lose my job," Brian said to me, smiling.

"Aye, aye, captain," I saluted, and he rolled his eyes before nodding once at Clark in a way that only guys do, and sliding out of the booth. He smiled once more in my direction, before hurrying out of the parlor.

"I get the feeling that your friend doesn't like me," Clark said with a coy smile.

"I get the feeling that you and Brian were waging a silent war. What was that all about?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and taking a lick of my ice cream.

"He's a very challenging person. And I think he likes you," he added, narrowing his eyes playfully.

"Oh please. Brian? He's like, twenty-three. It's so illegal," I exclaimed, finally reaching the cone part of my ice cream. I stalled slightly, nibbling the cone instead of biting. I wanted to spend as much time with Clark before he took me back as I possibly could.

"So I don't have to worry about him?" Clark asked, and I stared at him, before asking "Why would you have to worry about Brian?"

"Well, you've known him longer than you've know me. I didn't know if…well, I wasn't sure…" he started stammering after glancing at me and seeing my blank stare.

Was Clark telling me what I thought he was telling me? It was extremely unlikely, but the evidence was hard to ignore.

"Clark…" I interrupted him, and he was silent, his face nervous instead of relaxed like usual.

"Are you worried that I care more about Brian than I do about you?" I asked, wording it so it wouldn't be sorely obvious that I had some sort of feelings for him.

"…That's one way of putting it, I guess."

I had to laugh. Never in the whole time that Clark has been around have I seen him look so nervous.

"Don't laugh at me! My ego is easily bruised," he pouted, and I let my laughter fade as I tried to control the intense urge to take that pouty lip between my teeth and…

I shook my head very slightly and focused on eating the rest of my ice cream.

We were silent for a while, and I finally finished, at which point Clark slid out of his booth and held out his hands for me.

"What?" I asked, not understanding. I could get myself up.

He just shook his hands a little, urging me to allow him to help me.

I thought about it for a split second and decided that I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to feel those big soft hands around mine.

He had propped my crutches up on the end of the table and was still waiting with his hands out, palm up.

I slid my fingers into his palms and my skin grew warm. I used my good leg to slid to the end of the booth, when Clark pulled me up carefully. His grip on my fingers was firm and soft at the same time. I was about to ask him how he did it, but decided to save myself the embarrassment. I had to lean into him slightly for support as I took my crutches and got situated.

"All set?" he asked, and I nodded, smiling up at him. I was in front of him as we made our way to the door; he leaned in front of me and pushed open the door for me, allowing me to go through first. I could feel the stares, but I ignored them. Clark and I were already on the way back to the hospital when he spoke again.

"You don't get to leave very often, do you?" he asked, and I continued crutching myself as I answered.

"Like Brian said, I'm not supposed to leave. He sneaks me out to go get ice cream or coffee once in a while, but other than that, it's the wonderful land of the hospital courtyard for me."

"Well, I hope that changes soon. It's no fun before stuck in a building all the time."

"Yeah, you're telling me?" I laughed, and he laughed with me. He walked close enough to me that I could feel his warmth whenever our arms came close to brushing; it was driving me crazy. I was sure that Clark didn't feel the same way about me, despite what he was about to say in the ice cream shop. Or maybe he's just shy.

"I'm hoping that I'll be able to start going home between therapy sessions, though. I'm sick of the hospital," even to me, my voice sounded sad. I stared down at the ground to avoid looking up at Clark. I could feel his eyes on me, and it made me want to squirm.

I thought quickly, paging through all of the million stories Clark had told me about Lana and him, picking out things that were similar. I had a lot of time sitting in a hospital bed, which allowed me to perfect speed-thinking.

Clark told me about he and Lana often. He was stressed about her, because she confused him. She acted like she didn't know what she wanted. Granted her and I both knew that Clark had some deep dark secrets. Didn't we all, though? She held it against him, though I'm sure she has some things hidden deep within herself that she wouldn't share with Clark.

I believed that if these secrets were really important, and Clark really cared, he would tell me someday. I wanted to let him tell me in his own time. Lana was pushy, and it scared Clark because she demanded that he either tell her everything or she would leave him. In a way, it made me think that Clark might have been having some abandonment issues because of it. It put a lot of pressure on him. I wouldn't force his secrets from his lips. I would earn his trust, and he would tell me when he was ready.

I hadn't met Lana until recently, and when I did, I was a little disappointed. Clark had her on such a high pedestal, impossibly devoted to her although she'd moved on at least a little bit while they were apart. She was a good listener, but she was a little nosy. Not as bad as Chloe, whom I'd also recently met, but it was a little too much for me.

My first conversation with Lana quickly moved from how I met Clark to what my dreams were and what I hoped to do when I got out of the hospital. It was surprising and uncomfortable to answer those questions, because I didn't know her very well at all. Then the topic turned back to Clark, and there was an edge to her voice that I couldn't place. She would ask me why he comes in every day, what we talked about all the time, and even about secrets that we'd confided in each other.

I'd told her straight out that it was between Clark and I, as well as that she was being kind of rude. She apologized, and there was tangible tension in the air until Clark popped his head in and Lana excused herself and left.

The rest of the walk was filled with comfortable small talk, complete with Clark's quiet laughter and me blushing more than normal.

It was far too soon that we arrived back at the hospital, and we got back to my room without detection. Clark helped me onto the edge of the bed, his hands on my waist like I was a child. He lifted me easily, and his hands brushed down my legs swiftly, coming to a stop on my knees.

Both of our smiles faded instantly and I saw him swallow hard, looking up at me with careful eyes.

"You don't have to leave, do you? Not yet…" I said quietly, and the corners of his lips turned up very slightly.

"I've got until four," he told me. My eyes flicked to the clock behind his head, and I sighed, putting my hands over his much bigger, much more tan ones. It was already three-thirty, which meant that he'd be leaving soon.

"I'll come back tomorrow," he said, before clearing his throat quietly. My heart was hammering in my chest and my breathing was slightly off.

I looked down, my index finger tracing the lines on the back of his hand lightly while I thought some more about what was happening.

This moment had intimate possibilities written all over it, and still Clark hadn't shied away yet. Maybe that meant he really did feel the same as I did. Or it could be that he didn't see it as intimate at all. I didn't know for sure, so I decided to ask.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked softly, not meeting his eyes.

"The truth?"

"Preferably," I laughed nervously, and heard him sigh.

"Thinking about you, about this place, about everything that's happened over the last few months. Mostly you, though," he said quickly, and the words themselves were meant to be calm and joking, but Clark's slightly trembling, jittery voice made them unsure and undecided.

I remained quiet, thinking about what he'd just said, but he interrupted my thoughts, "your turn. The truth."

"Mostly you," I laughed again, my breath coming out shakily.

"So…" he said, leaving the sentence hanging. There were so many things he could have said after that one little word, but he left it open for me to finish.

"What now?" I asked, and he smiled, looking from our hands to my face and back and forth, his eyes just as jumpy as his voice.

"I think this is the part where I man up and ask you out on a date," he grinned wider, and I smiled, looking at him fondly. He was very cute when he was nervous.

"I would love to go on a date with you, Clark," I told him, and he chuckled, turning his palm upward. I continued to trace the lines absently, until I came across the life-line that went up the center of his palm. It was hard to hold back my gasp when I felt it, and he looked at me curiously, raising his eyebrows.

"Your life-line is incredibly long. Even for hands this size," I added, and his expression didn't change much. He still looked confused.

"I used to read palms," I told him, and his face relaxed into a smile.

"Of course you did," he laughed, and I scowled at him, which made him laugh harder.

"I don't see why that's funny," I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest.

"It's just that I can't think of anything you haven't done."

"Never been in an airplane. I'm terrified of heights," I grinned, and he laughed again.

"Me too," he chuckled, and it was my turn to look surprised.

"Clark Kent, afraid of flying? Wow."

"Yeah," he shrugged, and I wanted to run my hands over his broad shoulders and down his arms. Everything about Clark was just so…touchable. I wanted to kiss every inch of him, feel him hold me in his arms, hear his soft voice in my ear.

He was so close to being perfect, it seemed impossible.

And I had a date with him as soon as I got out of this hospital.


End file.
